


Ascendancy

by lgbtaejin



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Bottom Harry, Demigods, Hate to Love, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, King!Zayn, M/M, Royalty, Sexual Tension, Top Zayn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 07:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11481975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lgbtaejin/pseuds/lgbtaejin
Summary: An AU in where Harry is strongly determined to bring down Zayn, the King.





	Ascendancy

The deceased, fallen leaves and twigs crumpled noisily under his swift, heavy footsteps as he ran through the dark and eerie forest. He felt and heard his thumping heartbeat ringing loudly in his ears. His aching muscles burned painfully with each step he took, sweat beads gathering on his hairline and falling down onto his creased forehead, his wavy hair flowing back in the crispy gush of the winter wind and tall towering trees that reached the sky passing by in a blink of an eye.

Having the strong urge to look back, he didn't dare to do so. Instead, he continued on running, trying to escape and get away from the village circle as far as possible, hopefully praying to the stars that no one was on his trail. He swatted his loose, curly hair away from his distressed face with his trembling hands, his viridescent eyes burned from the fresh, hot tears cascading down his dirtied face. His strong features covered in ash, dirt and coal.

His heart wrenched in utter agony and guilt as the blood-curdling screams and cries of children and adults filled his ears, he wanted to go back but he knew it was too late to save them. The fire had surrounded them, there was no hope that he could save them. He had only saved nine families when the fire erupted and before guards and the creatures came in and started troubling the innocent villagers.

His heart was pounding rapidly, his body was starting to give up but as soon as his ears picked up the screech of the creatures that started all of this mess, he bolted in a dash once again. Trying to run faster, his foot got stuck under a branch making him topple over and fall face forward into the ground. He groaned in pain but quickly got back on his feet, making his stance ready to fight the creature.

His irises vigilantly scanned the obscure area he was in, squinting so he could try to see better in the chilling darkness of the night. The noise of the screams died down, he couldn't hear anything but his thumping heartbeat. He heard a slight shuffle in the background and he briskly turned around, terrified of what lies in the dark shadows. His eyes lingered a bit longer until he decided to just continue on running. All of a sudden, he was violently pinned down on the rough terrain, the treacherous goblin on top of his heaving chest.

The ugly goblin wrapped his small yet strong and hard hands around his neck, cutting the oxygen from entering his lungs. He reached the goblins neck and tried to choke her but the goblin just made her grip tighter, his hips jerked up in an attempt to throw the goblin off of his body. He let his hands drop and go reach the locks preventing him from breathing, his nails scratched at the ugly, rough skin, drawing black blood.

He eventually began getting light-headed and weak, not enough oxygen circulating throughout his whole body. With each passing second, he was inching closer and closer to death. His writhing body almost coming to a halt if it weren't for the arrow that went straight through the goblin's temple. No longer feeling the tightness around his neck, he heaved for air, shakily inhaling and exhaling heavily as he forcefully pushed the deceased goblin off his chest.

After composing himself, his gaze glanced over to where the arrow was shot from, his eyes not finding anyone in sight. Licking his pink, chapped lips, he gulped down the heavy and thick lump in his throat. He gazed back at the deceased creature, studying the arrow. It possessed a symbol. He had never perceived such a symbol before so he began cooking up questions in his head.

He anxiously traced the embossment with his rough calluses, it had three golden circles, all smaller than the other and had spread out golden wings on the largest circle. What did this mean? A puzzled expression was soon sewn onto his face as confusion filled his emotions. Much to his disappointment, his observation was cut short as he heard the faint guards' yelling.

He pursed his lips and embarked on another dash, attempting to locate a spot he could hide and rest in for the cold hours of darkness. Eventually, he uncovered a small lake with a waterfall and a cave. He gathered a good ample amount of wood and dry grass in an attempt to create fire to provide his warmth overnight.

Later, after he had put up the fire after numerous of failed attempts, he sat cross-legged in front of the flames against the cave's wall, the sound of reds and yellows burning the wood filled the deafening silence. He couldn't believe what just occurred an hour prior. Those cries, screams, pleads for help and mercy discomforted his heart, it hung low in sorrow.

He mourned for the innocent people that didn't make it alive tonight, he leant his against the cave wall and fluttered his eyes closed. Feeling remorseful, he let out a heavy sigh. Those innocent villagers didn't deserve it, they didn't owe their lives to anyone. It instantly angered him how easily their lives were taken within the snap of the King's fingers.

The King was a cold, heartless and ruthless monster. He simply couldn't decipher how one can be so achingly cruel to the core. But then again, the King isn't exactly human. Even so, couldn't the King at least show a bit of sympathy? A bit of condolence? A bit of heart? Someone like him has to have a heart, right?

Wrong.

In his eyes, the King didn't have a heart, never uttering a single sign of pure compassion, tenderness or warmth. Just as everybody else, he abhorred the King immensely. He couldn't wrap his head around how barbaric a person like him is put in a place to run a kingdom. From what he learned, a King is supposed to help his people, care for his people, fight for them and not fight against them.

The current King commenced his heir in the year of 1590, where everything was simple. Everyone had no worries of being eaten or skinned alive by one of the palace's guards. There were myths where the King was tranquil, humble and serene back then. There were myths where the King was adored and admired by everyone, his smile being his greatest feature on his bright face.

There were myths where the King used to love visiting the town square so that he could begin lively conversations with the humble villagers, standing on common ground. There were myths where he used his power to help the people. There were myths where he was everything you could want, ask and look for in a king, he possessed the attributes to be one.

There were myths where the King would use his magical powers for the greater good of people. He would help anyone in need in an instant. He would help people whose cats are stuck on a tree to treating people's horrible and tragic illnesses. Everyone praised him as a saint.

There were myths where the King was the most ravishing being to ever step foot on this godforsaken planet. There were stories how he had a tall, lean, and built body, how he possessed a pair of strong, beautiful, keen eyes to see beauty in everyone and everything, how he had strong cheekbones and a firm, chiselled jawline on his structured face. All in all, drop dead gorgeous.

But no one in a thousand years has seen his face after the disastrous incident that changed the fate of everyone's, the incident that made the King a cold, ruthless, heartless monster, a thing that shed no empathy for anyone.

He would never believe all those myths he heard, a monster like him was humble? Was tranquil? Was serene? Please, he won't be played for a fool who'd believe all of these idiotic myths. They were myths for a reason, but see... they're  _myths_. In this world, they have a small chance of being possible.

He fumbled with his slender, soiled fingers, millions of exhausting thoughts running through his head. He had all of this guilt bubbling up inside him though he is aware he hasn't any fault here. But maybe if he was just fast enough and stronger, he could've had saved more of them. Tears pricked at his eyes as he witnessed people being burnt alive and he was helpless as he was ushering other kids to stay hidden and safe. The pained and high pitched screams replayed endlessly in his ears, he bit his quivering lip to prevent a loud sob from leaving his throat. This was utter torture.

His dear mother, if he was only fast enough, she could've been here with him. "No..." he whimpered softly as he hit his head harshly with his fists and then pulling on the thick locks of his hair. If he was fast enough, he wouldn't have heard the bloodcurdling cries and screams as she was burnt alive in her bedroom. He could've saved her. But he couldn't and he knew that this would haunt him forever, he's scarred for life and nothing would change that.

That night, Harry cried himself to sleep in the cold air, the last thought in his dazed head being his mother and the memories that they've shared together, not wanting to accept the fact that he's alone.


End file.
